


The Fire Bird

by babinforaelin



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25932817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babinforaelin/pseuds/babinforaelin
Summary: Rowan is a Principal dancer at the Doranelle Dance Company, and is tasked with mentoring Maeve’s Niece. As the biggest dance contest of the decade approaches, rules will be broken, friendships will be forged and nothing will ever be the same.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. It Begins

Rowan Whitethorn stormed down the hallway, not caring what any of his fellow dancers thought. It was too early for this.  
He had been practicing his solo for the upcoming performance when Lorcan had pushed open the studio door and told him that Maeve needed them both in her office. Immediately.  
Rowan wasn’t stupid enough to ask questions, but was struggling to keep his temper at bay. Between teaching the latest choreography to his classes and going through the gruelling steps of his solo, Rowan did not have time for this.  
He schooled his features into bored neutrality as Maeve’s office door loomed in front of him; it’s surface black and polished enough that he could see his own disgruntled expression in it. He heaved it open with a sigh.

* * *

Lorcan was already inside and standing in front of Maeve’s desk as she fingered through papers, using a heavy pen to sign as she went. Her office was the same as always, sophisticated and furnished in the deepest black, so at odds with the brightness found in the rest of the Doranelle Dance Company campus. Every time Rowan was summoned to meet with Maeve, he couldn’t help but think that it was an office fitting for the Black Swan – the very role that had pushed her to stardom when she had been a young dancer. Her original costume even sat behind a glass case embedded into the dark oak cabinet behind her desk, pristine as the last day she wore it, a reminder to all that she was truly a master of dance. Although Rowan had never seen her perform, he did not need to in order to know that she had been the most talented dancer in all of Doranelle, even Erilea, and probably still was.  
Rowan walked up to the oak desk stopping at Lorcan’s side. Maeve put down the pen and looked at the both of them, crossing her fingers under her chin.  
“As both of you know the Erilea Dance Decennial will be happening later in the year.”  
Both men nodded. The Decennial was started centuries ago in an attempt to promote the sharing of dance styles from all over the world. It had started innocent enough – as a way for professional dancers and companies to perform for (and learn from) each other. However any sense of collaboration quickly dissipated when Maeve had brought in the Grand Decennial Prize. It was awarded to the company with the most impressive performance at the final show, and Doranelle Dance Company always won. Always. The enormous trophy sat in a glass case in the foyer to the entrance of the school, remaining a symbol of prestige for staff and students.  
“This year the honour will fall on us to host,” she continued. “So I expect that the standard of this company will continue to keep the trophy here for the next ten years. Am I understood?”  
Lorcan and Rowan nodded again. They didn’t ask questions.  
It was no secret to him that the trophy had stayed with Maeve because she forced her dancers to cheat and scheme. Even at yearly contests or recitals, Maeve always found a way for her company to win. No matter the cost. 

Rowan had yet to dance in a Decennial performance, since companies were only allowed a select number of dancers in the competition, and Rowan had been too young to compete last time. Although there had been no denying his talent, the age limit was eighteen and above, and Rowan had just missed out by a year. He had begged Maeve to let him dance anyway, but she had offered him no comfort, instead telling him that rules were rules, and there were some that even she could not break. But it had been ten years since then, and a lot had changed. Rowan had changed. Everything had. He was no longer the young seventeen-year-old boy, desperate to impress his teachers and his company. No, that desperation had ceased to exist after he grew into his man’s body; his dancing becoming even stronger, his jumps even higher. He wasn’t desperate anymore, because he had nothing to prove. The only other person that rivalled his talent was Lorcan, who was the lead soloist at the company and the only other person to outrank him. Perhaps that would have annoyed Rowan once, but that was before… before Lyria. After that, he didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. He just did what Maeve required of him, and did it with a perfect execution.  
Maeve lowered a hand to the desk and began tapping a long manicured nail against the surface.  
“I expect auditions for the company’s representatives to be held within the next two weeks, and I want all dancers to be working three times as hard, and three times as fast. If simpletons from other companies will soon be infiltrating my school and using our resources, I want them to see the standard that a winning company holds themselves to. I want them to know that they have no chance.”  
Neither Rowan nor Lorcan batted an eye at the authority in Maeve’s lovely voice. She had always held them on a tight leash, as with the rest of the dancers in her company. Too tight. Rowan knew the consequences well enough.  
Maeve’s eyes slid to Rowan, with the smoothness of a snake.  
“Rowan, I have a … particular request for you,” she started, lips tilting into a serpentine smile that Rowan knew to be laced with sinister intentions. “My niece will be joining us in a few days, all the way from Adarlan. Her parents were some of the finest ballet dancers in all of Erilea before they died, but I’ve heard that she’s… out of practice.” She paused, eyes flicking to the man at his side. “So while Lorcan deals with preparations for the Decennial, I want you to oversee her training.”  
Once he might have objected, claiming that another dancer would be better suited to the job, hell, they might even want the job. He knew that Fenrys would jump at the opportunity to get out of classes. But now, Rowan couldn’t even bring himself to voice his complaints. It would be more trouble than it was worth. He had enough on his plate already; he didn’t have time to help some untrained girl just because she was related to Maeve. He was sick to death of kiss-asses and power-grabbers like Remelle and Benson. He didn’t need deal with another one.  
Maeve was looking at him expectantly, so he bowed his head and said, “of course.”

* * *

Three days had passed since his initial meeting in Maeve’s office. He had been so busy between his teaching, choreographing and helping Lorcan with the preparation for the decennial auditions that he had nearly forgotten about Maeve’s niece. Nearly.  
It put him in a foul mood when he was called into Maeve’s office once again, no doubt to discuss her plans for her niece’s training. Maeve liked to know exactly what was happening in her school at all times, and both Lorcan and Rowan were constantly turning in reports about everything from individual students to the conditions of the classrooms. Maeve knew about it all, even details that neither of the men reported. Although they never missed anything… she had trained them too well. All of her students entered the Doranelle Dance Company as children, and stayed until they were too old to perform any longer. It was in their contracts, all of them signed as children, and then once again at eighteen. After that they were re-signed every 10 years. To Rowan’s knowledge, nobody had ever left by refusing to resign with the Company. It was the most prestigious dance school in the world and nearly impossible to get into. Once dancers could no longer perform, Maeve often kept alumni to teach the younger students, so nobody ever truly left the DDC. Rowan had thought about leaving when he was younger but ... that didn’t happen.  
Rowan was still thinking about it when he pushed open the office door once again and prowled into the room. Maeve was seated at her desk, sipping at a glass filled with some dark liquid. She was smiling at him over the rim as he entered, her eyes dark and threatening. She slid her eyes across the room as she brought the glass back to the table. Rowan followed her gaze and saw that someone was standing at the huge and only window in Maeve’s office, looking out. Their shoulders were tensed, hands clenched into tight fists, as if they would rather be anywhere but here. He couldn’t see any of their face behind the black hoodie that they wore, but Rowan knew by her build that she was a woman.  
“Rowan,” Maeve purred, “shut the door behind you.”  
He did, and when he turned back Maeve’s guest finally twisted to look at him. His steps faltered as he took in her bright turquoise eyes and her golden hair. Her scowl. He scowled back and resumed his steps.  
“Let me introduce my darling niece, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.”


	2. The Contract

Aelin felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

“You have a year to prepare darling. I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s just a precaution really. I want to motivate you to do your best is all,” Maeve said as she stroked the rim of her glass.

Aelin had to walk to the window to catch her breath. What her Aunt was asking of her.... it was too much. The risk was too big. She knew Maeve was supposed to be a bitch but this was ridiculous. Aelin’s mother had drilled warnings about Maeve into her head ever since she was a child. Her parents had left this continent to get away from the woma and her scheming. Yet here she was, thinking about making a deal with the devil herself. Her parents would be turning in their graves. 

Aelin was still evaluating her choices when she heard, rather than saw, someone push the office door open.  
“Rowan,” Maeve purred, “shut the door behind you.”  
Aelin turned to look at the source of the interruption. The first thing she saw was the frown that seemed to be permanently etched on his face. Then, she noticed the way he moved. Like water. He was tall and graceful – obviously another one of her dancers. That asshole Lorcan had escorted her to the office about thirty minutes earlier. No doubt Rowan was here to usher her out. She scowled at him and he returned the look as he continued walking until he was in front of Maeve’s desk. Aelin had to hold back a scoff. Her aunt seemed to have these me trained like dogs, constantly awaiting orders. 

“Let me introduce my darling niece, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.”

Rowan looked her up and down in a disinterested sort of way. He only offered a careful nod by way of greeting, though she suspected that he only did it because Maeve was watching. Aelin merely raised an eyebrow at him indignantly. He gave her a look, which made it very clear that he was thoroughly unimpressed by her. Aelin crossed her arms and looked back at her aunt. 

Maeve slid some papers across her large desk, toward Aelin. A contract. With a dancer’s grace, she placed a silver pen on the stack of papers and smirked.  
“Well? What will it be, my dear?”

Aelin swallowed the lump in her throat. She was desperate. She wouldn’t be here, grovelling in front of an aunt she’d never even met before, if she wasn’t. But what Maeve asked of her was insane. An entire year away from home? Away from her friends and family? Longer if she didn’t win this stupid contest. The risks were enormous. 

“Of course,” Maeve sneered, “you could go back to Adarlan and try to sort your ... unfortunate situation out on your own. But I think we both know that you won’t be able to. You need me.”

As much as she hated to admit it, Maeve was right. Aelin needed her help. She glanced at the glittering black costume behind her aunt’s desk, displayed behind a panel of glass so clear that Aelin felt like she could reach out and touch it if she wanted to. It was magnificent – a masterful construction of sleek feathers and fabric as black as night. It was lined in diamonds, applied in sensuous lines across the entire piece, glittering like the stars. Every dancer knew about that costume. It was as famous as her aunt. Odile, the Black Swan. It had been the role that had cemented Maeve as the greatest dancer in Wendlyn. Rivalled only by her mother, who had worn it’s twin.  
Aelin sighed through her nose. Maeve’s fame meant that she had money – a lot of it. The situation Aelin was in could only be resolved if she had Maeve’s help. So despite herself, and despite all of the warning bells going off in her head, Aelin sat down across from her aunt and picked up the pen.

Maeve watched intently as she read through the contract, twice. She could feel Rowan bristling behind her, probably bored. She ignored him.  
Her aunt was practically grinning as Aelin slowly signed her name, willing her hand not to shake as she did so.  
No sooner had she lifted the pen off the page, her aunt whipped the stack of paper from the desk and into a nearby drawer, locking it with a key that Aelin hadn’t noticed earlier. She turned back and crossed her manicured fingers under her chin, resting her beautiful face on her hands. 

“I’m glad that’s settled. I’ll explain your situation to my lawyers,” Maeve crooned. “Now onto more pressing matters. I’ve been watching you from afar Aelin and I know that you’re somewhat... out of practice when it comes to your ballet. So you’ll be working with Rowan until he believes you are capable of dancing without making a fool of yourself or the company.”

“Absolutely not,” Aelin started as she felt Rowan tense behind her. “The contract didn’t say anything about that.”

Maeve cocked her head, “Are you sure, darling niece? It clearly states that as a student at the Doranelle Dance Company your dancing must meet our standards or you will be removed from the establishment. If your contract is terminated then how can I possibly help you?”  
Aelin began to object when Maeve held up a manicured hand, silencing her.  
“Your current skills are laughable. Consider these lessons a gift in good faith. Most people spend their entire lives trying to get into this company and never make it,” she shifted her eyes to Rowan. Aelin would have pondered that deliberate look if she wasn’t so angry. “Yet here I am, providing you with the rare opportunity to study with us when you so clearly do not deserve it. So you will practice with Rowan until he deems you ready.”

Aelin leaned back in her chair as she felt her body deflate. She couldn’t dance ballet. Wouldn’t. She had vowed to herself that she would never do it again. After Sam... it was too painful. 

Aelin glared at her aunt. “To what end?”  
Maeve’s smile didn’t reach her dark eyes.  
“I want to see what the daughter of Evalin Ashryver and Rhoe Galathyinius is capable of.”

Aelin stopped breathing. 

“Rowan,” Maeve purred as she turned to look at him. “Take my darling niece to Head Office so she can get her class schedule and locker.”

She was being dismissed, Aelin realised. She glared once more at her aunt before she stood up, grabbed her bag from where she had left it on one of the plush leather sofas in the middle of the room, and walked over to Rowan. The pure ire in his eyes told her that he was just as unhappy with this arrangement as she was. He didn’t wait for her as he started walking toward the door.

“Oh and dear,” Maeve called from behind her. Aelin turned to look at her grinning aunt. 

“Welcome to the company.”

* * *

They walked in angry silence. Pure hatred was rolling off her in waves. He ignored her.  
“Are you this unpleasant all the time,” asked Aelin, “or will our lessons together be fun?”  
Rowan didn’t bother with a reply. She gave a bitter laugh and said “Do you do anything my aunt says without question or are you just an oversized lap dog?”  
Rowan stopped walking abruptly, whipping his head to her.  
“If think for one second that you are going to get any special treatment just because you’re Maeve’s niece, then think again. You’ve obviously got a bad attitude and I couldn’t care less. But if you’re going to be a brat then do it outside of my classes.”  
Aelin shut her mouth and scowled at him. He continued walking, dragging her by the arm.  
“Oh and I wouldn’t be bragging to the other students about how you schmoozed your way in here if I were you.”  
They rounded a corner and Rowan hauled her into the office.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow at 5am. Don’t be late.”

* * *

Rowan could barely contain his anger as he strode down the corridor, away from the blond brat.  
Ashryver? Galathynius? He knows those names – every aspiring dancer did. They were legendary. He’d heard some of his teachers talk about them – about how breathtaking they were when they danced. Their deaths had shocked the entire ballet world.  
Evalin and Maeve became famous for their roles in Swan Lake. Evalin was renowned for her role as Odette and Maeve was a force to be reckoned with as Odile. Aelin had ballet in her blood. 

If Maeve thought that Aelin had potential then he would have to teach her, whether he wanted to or not. He really, really didn’t want to.  
His schedule was insane already, without having to factor classes with Aelin into it. She was a nuisance. She was undeserving. She would be more trouble than she was worth.  
Rowan hated her. Maeve had known the power she’d wielded when she had glanced at him during that meeting. Knew exactly how to twist the knife. Aelin had gotten into the company without even auditioning. It was unheard of.  
Lyria had spent her entire life trying to get in and couldn’t. Yet Aelin strolled into Maeve’s office and got a place without even trying. 

What trouble was she even in? It wasn’t Rowan’s place to ask Maeve so he would have to assume, but his guess was that Aelin had lost her inheritance on shopping sprees or gambling and needed Maeve to bail her out. Or she’d pissed off some bad people with her own bad attitude. Aelin felt wild and unpredictable, so it made sense. 

Whatever the case, Rowan didn’t care. He’d train her and then be done with it. 

It was going to be a long year.


	3. The First Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aelin and Rowan have their first lesson together. Lets just say that it aint pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was a real grind. I found it to be a real challenge trying to say everything I needed to without it being boring, so sorry in advance haha. Now that this chapter is over I can get onto more exciting stuff <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy x

She’d arrived home yesterday, collapsed on the bed and immediately fallen asleep. Her aunt’s generosity didn’t extend to living arrangements, so thankfully Aelin was able to live off campus.   
After Rowan had dumped her at the office yesterday, she’d met one of the company teachers, Emrys. He trained the younger students and Aelin could tell that he was a strict mentor but had endless patience. He was kind enough to give her a short tour of the campus, and from what she had seen it appeared that most students lived in a large dormitory block on site. He’d explained that on-campus living was a requirement for everyone under the age of eighteen, but adults were free to choose if they wanted to find their own residence or continue to live in campus housing. Staff and the company’s best dancers were given the option of living in individual apartments rather than dorms, so many took up the offer.  
To Aelin it appeared as though Maeve wanted to control as many people in the company possible and keep them close to her.

Emrys also showed her the numerous facilities available at DDC. The majority were located in the enormous main building. It had three levels (and a basement she’d yet to explore), which housed a multitude of different departments. He showed her the impressive ground floor “Health Hub”, which contained a gym, physiotherapist, nutritionists, remedial massage specialist, Pilates studio and sauna.   
The ground floor also included the main Locker Rooms (with attached bathrooms and showers), plus two huge studios that, according to Emrys, were used for the run-throughs of company productions.  
It also stored the hundreds of trophies, cups and medals that the DDC had acquired over the years. Aelin had seen them when she’d first entered the lobby yesterday morning. The ground level was grand, with marble floors and alcoves in the ornamented walls, which sheltered large classical sculptures. The somewhat open-plan Head Office sat in the centre of the level, and the outer walls were lined in trophy cases. Aelin had tried to hold back a laugh at the arrogance of it. Maeve knew what she was doing. They were the first thing you saw when you entered the DDC; the prestige and reputation of the Company slapping you in the face.   
Toward the back of the building sat the grand staircase, which had been empty when Lorcan and Rowan had led her up and down it, but was swarmed with students by the time Emrys had led her to the next floor.  
The second level housed more studios in the left wing, the makeup and costume departments, a dancewear store (where Aelin had to purchase some essentials since she obviously hadn’t brought anything with her) and the shoe department. 

He left her as she was being fitted for new pointe shoes, claiming that he had to get to his next class and apologised for cutting their tour short. Aelin hadn’t minded, since she had already explored the top floor while waiting for Maeve to see her. She’d spied some more studios, a few meeting rooms, the music department and the company Staff room in the left wing. There appeared to be restricted access to the right wing for staff and principal dancers. Aelin had read the directory and seen that the Principal’s Area included a kitchen, exclusive studios and a smaller, secondary “Health Hub”. Aelin had thought it was overkill, but she supposed that Maeve’s school had earned its reputation by being the best. So it made sense that her Aunt would have every possible facility available for her students.   
She had thanked the older man and was grateful that at least someone in the company was pleasant, unlike her soon-to-be teacher. 

She was still scowling at the thought as she made her morning coffee and tried to mentally prepare for the day ahead of her.   
Honestly, she felt sick.  
It had been three years since she had vowed to never dance ballet again. Three long year since Sam had been gone.   
Yet here she was, thrust back into an industry she hated with every fibre of her being.   
When she was younger she had loved to dance. Ballet made her feel alive and was as easy to her as breathing. Aelin had cloudy memories of dancing with her. parents; they would twirl, twist and leap together, laughing as a family.   
Now.... it was a challenge to calm her breathing as the anxiety started to creep through her body.   
After she and Sam had run away from Arrobyn’s tight grip, they burnt every last pair of shoes, stockings, leg warmers ... anything that reminded them of what they had endured at the Adarlan Dance Academy. 

Aelin still felt sick she walked through the DDC doors and loaded her things into her locker. She splashed some water over her face in the attached bathroom and gripped the sink. Aelin thanked the gods that nobody else was here this early. She looked at her reflection; hair pulled back into a messy bun, bruises under her eyes (she had barely slept last night), her skin pale and damp.  
“You can do this,” she whispered to her reflection. “You have to do this.”  
She pushed herself away from the sink and lifted her chin, steeling her expression.   
She was the daughter of two of the greatest dancers the world had ever seen. She had been incredible before, and she could be incredible again. She wasn’t starting from scratch this time. Ballet was in her blood.   
It was one year. That was it.   
One year and then she would have what she needed from Maeve.  
She could do this.  
She plastered an arrogant smirk on her face, took one final look in the mirror, and left. 

She was running late but she didn’t care. She walked up the stairs slowly and before she knew it she was standing outside the studio door. 

Aelin paused as she gripped the handle. She took three deep breaths.   
One for her parents. One for Sam. One for Celaena Sardothian.   
She steeled herself and pushed open the door.

* * *

Rowan turned to look as Aelin strolled in, already scowling. He glared back and crossed his arms over his broad chest. 

“You’re late,” he said with a growl.   
He watched as she set her bag down by the set of shelves in the corner of the room.   
“I got lost,” she mumbled, unconvincingly.   
“I don’t care. Don’t be late again.”  
She rolled her eyes, taking off her jacket. 

He looked her up and down as she started doing some light stretches. Her hair was messily thrown up atop her head, not slicked down into the smooth ballerina bun that the uniform mandated. She was in the school’s black leotard and skirt at least. Her convertible stockings were rolled up to her ankles and her feet were adorned with fluffy slides. He raised an eyebrow.   
“Do you have a problem with my shoes?”  
His eyes snapped to hers.  
“Where are your pointe shoes?”  
“In my bag.”  
“Put them on.”  
“Can I have a moment to stretch or is that not allowed?”  
“Shoes first.”  
She sighed, kicking off her slippers and riffling around her bag.  
“Have you danced en pointe before?” He asked. “Yes,” she stated flatly, pulling out a smaller drawstring bag.   
“Are these your shoes or were you fitted in the Shoe Department yesterday?”  
“These are just a standard pair from the Shoe Department,” She grumbled. “When I got there they told me that Maeve had already put in an order with the company that used to make my shoes back in Adarlan.” She looked angry for a moment, but her face quickly smoothed back into an expressionless mask. “They said the first batch should arrive in a week or so.”  
Rowan paused for a moment before he said, “So you’ve personalised this pair?”  
She simply opened the bag, pulled her new pointe shoes and held them up, showing him the freshly sewn-in ribbon and elastic and giving Rowan a look that said obviously.   
He growled.

Aelin plopped onto the floor and began rolling her stockings back over her feet.   
“Maeve told me that you stopped dancing three years ago,” he stated. Rowan didn’t care why, but he needed to know how much work was needed.   
She slipped her toe-pads on as she said, “I stopped dancing ballet three years ago, yes.”  
Maeve had mentioned that when she’d met with him last night. Though she didn’t tell him exactly what Aelin had been doing in the meantime. He didn’t particularly care.  
“Same difference,” he snarled. “There’s no other style of dance that works the same muscles as ballet. Maeve wants me to get you into good enough shape that you can perform with the company, and if you’ve been slacking off for three years then you’re probably in bad form.”  
She tied a final knot in the ribbon of her shoe and stood up, glowering at him.   
“What if I don’t want to perform?”  
“You don’t have a choice,” He said with a sneer. “As of today you are a member of this Company, and that means you perform. It means that you work hard to be the best. It means that you come to these classes and do what you’re told.”  
She glared daggers at him but he ignored her. 

He walked over to the stereo in the corner and pressed play. Soft, classical music fluttered out of the speakers throughout the room. He nodded toward the barre in the middle of the room and Aelin paused before trudging over to it.   
“First position.”  
She didn’t move. She was looking at the floor.  
“First position,” he repeated, getting irritated. Why wasn’t she listening to him?   
“Hey!” he barked, snapping his fingers in front of her face. “Do you not know what I’m asking of you or are you deliberately ignoring me?”  
She blinked a few times and then began to scowl.  
“I’m not an idiot. I’ve spent a majority of my life doing ballet. I know what I’m doing.”  
Rowan scoffed.   
“Prove it,” he said with a sneer. He walked around the bar until he stood directly in front of her.  
“First. Position.”  
He watched her intently. Why was she acting like this?   
He was about to ask when she glared up at him and quickly adjusted her feet.   
He sneered at her.  
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

* * *

Aelin normally enjoyed classical music. However Rowan’s constant criticisms were making it hard to appreciate.   
“Your arms are sloppy.”  
Aelin clenched her jaw and lifted her arms higher.   
“Lift your right leg.”  
She did as she was told. They’d left the barre and were working in front of the wall of mirrors. Aelin couldn’t stand to look at herself.   
“You’re not working hard enough,” he said with pure ire.   
Aelin’s limbs snapped back down. “I’m trying.”  
Rowan walked around her like a lion stalking its prey. “No you aren’t.”  
“Yes. I. Am.”  
He stopped behind her, glaring at her in the mirror.   
“I thought the daughter of Roe Galathynius and Evalin Ashryver would be better than this.”  
She whipped around to face him.  
“Fuck you.”  
“What did you say to me?” He growled.  
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” She hissed back.  
“I’m one of the best dancers in Wendlyn. Who the fuck are you? Some girl from Adarlan that nobody has even heard of. If you think that the fact that your parents were famous or you have some connection with Maeve means anything to me, then you are dead wrong. You are obviously nothing more than a spoiled brat who is too used to getting her way. You’ve probably never had to try for anything in you entire life.”  
He took a step closer to her until his body towered over hers.  
“But guess what. I don’t care who you are or where you’ve come from. You are in my class now and I can tell that you aren’t trying. And if you don’t start, I will take you up to Maeve’s office right now and tell her that you are a waste of my time. I don’t know what you’re getting Maeve to bail you out of, but I doubt she’d help someone who won’t even attempt to uphold their end of the bargain.”  
He watched as Aelin paled and part of him smirked at the sight.   
“So make me believe you want to be here or else you are on your own.”

Aelin stumbled back a step and looked at the floor again. She was shaking. Rowan was sure that she was going to walk out of the classroom or start crying.  
Instead she turned back around to face the mirror and lifted her arms over her head.  
Rowan didn’t let her see the surprise on his face. He walked to the other side of the room.   
“Again.”

* * *

Aelin shoved her shoes into her bag the second that Rowan dismissed her.   
She was hallway out the door when he shouted, “Go to the gym and start working on your core. It’s pathetic. Don’t be late tomorrow.”  
She didn’t even turn back to look at him. She was going to be sick.  
She ran for the girl’s locker room and thankfully the bathrooms were still empty. She darted inside a stall and vomited into the toilet.   
Everything Rowan had said was true. She hadn’t been trying at first. She had been so scared. She hated ballet. Hated it to her core. What Arobynn had done to her and Sam in his attempts to make them great...It had almost broken them.   
Now her Aunt expected her to pick it back up like nothing had happened? Maeve must have heard about it all. She knew everything; even knew what shoes she used to order. It was like she had kept an eye on Aelin all this time, but had never thought to reach out and help. Maeve knew and yet still expected her to step back into this world.   
Aelin vomited again.   
Rowan had been right. If she didn’t try then Maeve wouldn’t either. Maeve had nothing to lose by letting Aelin go. Aelin needed her Aunt on her side. Aelin had to try.

* * *

Rowan felt like punching something.   
He marched up the stairs, trying to leash his anger. Aelin was a brat. Her attitude was abhorrent. How could Maeve expect him to train her? Why couldn’t Fenrys do it?  
He took a deep breath. Then another. Getting angry did him no good. Normally he would go through each day without feeling much of anything. Why did this brat get under his skin so quickly?   
He swiped his ID card against the sensor and pushed open the door to the Principals Area. He needed to do something to distract himself. Lifting weights seemed like a good idea.   
He was still thinking about it even after he’d begun dripping with sweat. Her dancing wasn’t as bad as he had expected. She had a lot of work to go, but she wouldn’t be half bad if she would just try. It had taken him screaming at her to get her to put in even an ounce of effort. Everyone at this company gave everything they had. They fought for their place here. Maeve made sure of that; yet she let Aelin in with no hesitation whatsoever. She didn’t even make her audition for a place in the company. Maeve didn’t make her work for it.   
He slammed his weights on the ground.   
She let Aelin waltz into this company like it was nothing, but refused Lyria time and time again.   
Rowan sat down on a nearby bench press, breathing heavily.   
Lorcan and Vaughn walked into the gym but wisely avoided him.   
When he felt like he could breathe again, he picked up the weights and began again.


End file.
